Damned Intervention
by BlueNeutrino
Summary: Netflix 'verse. There's some irony in a very drunk vampire hunter needing assistance from a half vampire to make it to his own bed. And with Trevor's heart condition, it only earns him a lecture about his drinking habits from Alucard.


**A/N: Set in the Netflix 'verse. I haven't played/am not familiar with the games. I'm doing a mass cross post from AO3, so this fic was written before season 2 came out. It isn't particularly compatible with the updated timeline of events, but nor does it disrupt them too much either. Based on a friend's headcanon that Trevor has a heart murmur, which is also a headcanon that several people in the fandom seem to have independently adopted.**

It's the early hours of the morning when Trevor Belmont finally staggers into the second floor room of the tavern. His hands grasp the wall, stumbling in the dark as he searches for the bed.

_That's wall...wall...dresser…_ he thinks as he makes it closer. _Wall...fireplace…_ He fumbles clumsily for the clasp at his throat and his cloak falls to the floor, followed by a hastily kicked-off boot.

_Bedpost...mattress…_

The other boot gets kicked off, almost costing him his balance, but he rights himself by grasping the headboard. _Blankets...almost there…_

The room is spinning, but he's just about ready to collapse down onto the mattress when his roving hand lands on a warm, firm mass protruding from under the covers. It would almost deter him, but he's too drunk to care.

_Oh, what the hell_, he thinks, just about to pull back the blankets and sink down into bed with it, when a firm hand closes around his wrist. Trevor blinks, his brain taking a few seconds to catch up, then turns to see sharp eyes in a pale face framed by golden hair peering at him through the shadows.

"That's not your bed," the half vampire says calmly. "Yours is by the window."

Trevor squints at him. "I thought you'd gone to sleep?" Alucard and Sypha had left him on his own downstairs to finish one last tankard of beer an hour ago. At least he thinks it was an hour ago. It's hard to be sure.

"It was two and a half hours ago," Alucard corrects, and Trevor realises he'd mumbled some of that out loud. "I spent a year sleeping in a coffin; I have no need for any more of it right now. And you've had far more than one final tankard of beer."

Trevor doesn't put up a fight as he finds himself being gently guided towards the other bed in the room, but he huffs irritably. "Can't a man drink what he wants?"

"I certainly can't stop you, though your excesses are doing you no favours in aggravating that heart problem of yours." Alucard pulls back the covers for him, and almost instinctively, Trevor clambers into the bed without even thinking.

"What problem?" he huffs, voice muffled by the pillow.

"This...arrhythmia. The not infrequent stumble in your heartbeat. The drink only worsens it."

"Oh, that? You know I've had it since I was a kid. It doesn't trouble me."

"So you say, but I've heard it grow considerably worse as the night's drawn on. You can hardly tell me a man is in peak physical condition when his heart is so prone to stopping and starting."

"Know what?" Trevor mumbles, though he's already shut his eyes and is hugging the pillow as Alucard pulls the covers up around him. "You can stop listening to my heartbeat. It's...predatory, and doesn't recline me to trust you."

"I believe 'incline' is the word you're searching for," Alucard says patiently. "And it's hardly something I can choose not to hear, persistent as the sound is. I may as well tell you to simply stop listening to the sound of a riot in the streets while you try to sleep."

"Get enough drink in me, and I can choose to stop listening to anything," Trevor retorts, though the fact he's still responding doesn't quite help his point.

"Then by all means, demonstrate," Alucard says. "And if you wake Sypha with your snoring, you can deal with her wrath on your own."

"I don't snore."

"I've spent several nights beside you when you're sleeping, Belmont. I can assure you, you do."

"Know what?" Trevor mumbles into the pillow. "You can stop listening to my snoring. It's—"

"We've already had this conversation," Alucard interrupts him. "And no, I can't simply choose not to hear your snoring any more than I can elect to tune out your heartbeat. Both are rather annoying reminders that you are, fortunately, still alive. Though if you keep up this drinking habit, I'm not sure how long that state can last for."

There's a beat in which Alucard thinks maybe Trevor's finally lost consciousness, then a very sleepy, slurred voice mumbles, "Why do you even care?"

"Because in case you've forgotten, Belmont, I need you to help defeat Dracula. Repeatedly degrading your body with alcohol like this does no good for…" There's no point finishing the sentence. A soft snoring has begun to sound from under the pillow as Trevor has, finally, passed out.

Alucard sighs, watching the vampire hunter's sleeping form for several seconds as he listens to the deep thudding of his heartbeat. To his relief, it's finally begun to calm. "And for what it's worth," the dhampir says softly after a few moments, "I actually believe your life has value beyond your usefulness to me, despite your recklessness when it comes to the thing that sustains it."

Alucard continues to listen as Trevor's heartbeat evens out, until eventually it's almost keeping a steady pace with Sypha's sleeping in the bed nearby. Satisfied, the half vampire steps away from them both to sit by the window and wait for morning.


End file.
